by Oredola Ibrahim
Faceless arrogant burdens
glean your back to a bed of thorns.
… as you roll from side to side, Negotiating with pangs feeding on your empty heart—

You run a million probabilities of where you could have been,

except this haunting perilous room—

your last and only haven.


The internet is a graveyard—


With extravagant tombstones

lighting your path…

The reactions of these waves are horrific—
even for the best surfers.
Entombed thumbs cover their griefs with
masks of mealy wreaths.
Priest—wake up!
Before your followers RIP
your timeline with their blank


Oredola Ibrahim writes from Asaba in Delta State. His works have appeared on Praxis Magazine Online, VoicesNet, Kalahari Review, Poetryzoo, Kreative Diadem and elsewhere. He co-edited a Yoruba literary collection titled Àtẹ́lẹwọ́ Pélébé ( in 2018 and he has equally contributed to many other literary collections within and outside Nigeria. He holds a law degree from the University of Ibadan. He can be reached on



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